


An Honest Man

by hippocampers



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocampers/pseuds/hippocampers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day of McCormack's funeral is inappropriately sunny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Honest Man

The day of McCormack’s funeral is inappropriately sunny.

While the church was packed to the hilt with tear-worn faces, the light glancing off the stained glass windows of the altar casts a warm glow across the room. As an apparent relative of the constable’s speaks, Chandler remains straight-backed and sombre at the front with the remainder of the team, across the aisle from John’s wife and daughters. He risks a glance at them, but regrets it instantaneously; the two young girls are gripping their mother’s hand, while she barely maintains composure, tears rolling down her cheeks.

_“An honest man lies here at rest; As e’er God with His image blest;”_

Miles’ expression is stony and hard. It would be uncharacteristic to let his grief show on his face – that would come later, when only his carp could judge him. McCormack had been a member of Miles’ team (for they would always be his team, DI or no DI) for a good few years. He was a good man, despite his actions later in life. An image of his boys flickers through Miles’ mind, and the feeling of pure terror that followed the threat to Liam at his football game returns, if briefly. He cannot, in his right mind, blame John for his actions. He knows he’d do the same in a heartbeat, should his children be at risk. It’s only a small comfort when he hears the vitriolic whispers of others at the station. Grief begins to rise once more in his throat, and Miles swallows it back with difficulty. He will save it for the fish.

_“The friend of man, the friend of truth; The friend of age, and guide of youth;”_

Unsurprisingly, tear tracks are present on Kent’s cheeks. He can’t restrain his emotions like Miles can; the young constable has always been an open book. A multitude of feelings rush through his body – obvious grief for a colleague, regret that he was not the mole, and yet a modicum of relief that everyone knows he is not the mole. This is countered with an overwhelming amount of guilt for feeling such relief in the first place.

Kent breathes out shakily. McCormack was present on his first day in CID. He’d made Kent a cup of tea – strong enough to melt a spoon, and not how Kent preferred his drinks, but he’d swallowed it down regardless – and placed a hand on his shoulder when Kent admitted first day nerves. The older man had been kind-hearted, showing him the ropes at the first crime scene when Miles couldn’t offer his full attention, letting Kent know it was okay to cope with humour at a scene.

He thinks humour can’t possibly help now, but fails to hide a half-hearted smile as he remembers John’s response for a status report. “Pissed off, cold, and very thirsty, sir.” It’s oddly apt for his current situation.

_“Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d; Few heads with knowledge so inform’d;”_

Mansell stares at the floor rather than the speaker. His eyes are rimmed red, mouth fixed in a thin line that betrays his hurt. McCormack had been a mate; they’d met when they were both in uniform, and the pair had had a few laughs over the years. It’d been a good run to work with John again on the Kray case – the larger man was skilled at lightening the mood in even the darkest situations. Finley found it hard to imagine John unable to lighten his own situation to the point of ending it all in his garden shed. The bloody shed. At that, tears sting his eyes once more, and this time he doesn’t bother stopping them.

_“If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the best of this.”_

As _Scotland the Brave_ on bagpipes start to play, and family and friends alike rise from the pews, the squad stand aside as the coffin is carried out towards the graveyard by various male relatives. None of the team meet their eyes – this would usually be the job of fellow police officers, but no uniforms had volunteered upon hearing of John’s betrayal, and Mrs. McCormack made her own arrangements instead.

As they filter out towards the grave, Chandler offers a sad smile of support to Kent, and Miles claps a hand to Mansell’s shoulder. Tomorrow they return to work, behaving as normally as possible while filing paperwork and hoping for another case. Mansell will make terrible cups of tea, Kent will be far too eager to please the boss, Miles will flick through the paper and grumble about the sports, and Chandler will remain exasperated at practically everything.

Today, they grieve, and try not to dread returning to an office with a painfully empty desk.

_“An honest man lies here at rest.”_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The poem used here is 'Epitaph on my own Friend' by Robert Burns. I felt it was somewhat fitting to McCormack’s character, as I felt like his response to Miles’ accusations in Series One reflected his good character, and his actions were a matter of poor circumstances.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://hippocampers.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
